Devil Take the Pair of Us
by Thomson
Summary: The feelings, interactions, and realizations of two men, Valjean and Javert, at the barricade and beyond.  What led these two characters to their judgement day?   This will be multi-chapter.
1. Valjean

Disclaimer: I do not own Les Miserables, which makes me *les miserables*.

A/N: Hi there! This is my second Les Mis fic, and my first that focuses on Valjean and Javert. I really love these two characters, and I wanted to take a deeper look at the scenes relating to their interactions at the barricade and from there on. It will be a multi-chapter story. I hope you enjoy! Please leave me a review and let me know what you would like to see.

The streets are dark tonight. I can feel the tension mounting around me as I walk- the very air seems to grow thicker. It is cool. I pull the uniform tighter around myself and try to ignore the quiet, and the lingering scent of factory smoke that follows me through the city. I hope that was not a gunshot I heard in the distance.

Almost there. I'm close enough to the Rue de Villette to see the barricade a few corners over. I have to remind myself why I'm here in the first place. This is a battlefield, and I am long past my prime. But I must go for her. Dearest Cosette- she is no longer mine. She will always be my daughter, but it is time for her to play another role, and to pursue another type of love; she has found it with this young man. This I cannot deny her. She is the sun in my dark hours- those nights where I think I see the faces of the past in the shadows. If I can help her to be happy...if I can give my life to make her happy, I will do it. There will be no hesitation.

Now I have that chance. I turn towards the final street between the students and I. If I can aid this boy, this Marius, and see him home safe to Cosette...It is my duty. I am bound by what is right. Long ago I would have scoffed at such an idea, but times have changed. I know the meaning of mercy now. Kindness was shown to me in my time of suffering, and I will repay it. I can hardly call my raising Cosette for her mother that payment- it was a gift. Perhaps now I shall pay back this debt.

Calmly, I approach the barricade, and I can hear the young defenders exclaiming my appearance. I hold myself with as little cause for suspicion as I can manage when I announce,

"I come here as a volunteer."


	2. Javert

He's here. The criminal, the one I have hunted all my life, 24601-he is here. Jean Valjean has come to the barricade.

I watch, my fury burning a hole in my chest as the man talks with the rebels. How dare he. How dare he come to fight, and show himself when he has spent the last twenty years evading me. How dare he stand before me, and give me little more than a glance- I, Javert, who should plague his sleep with nightmares of recapture.

He looks away, tiredly, as if I am no more than a bothersome fly to be batted away. I care not for the words of those little schoolboys, even as they threaten me for my betrayal. I have eyes only for Valjean. If he looked to me, surely my gaze would pierce him. But he does not return my stare.

"They're getting ready to attack!" Cries one of the rebels.

There is a flurry of action as they scramble to their positions. I grimace and shake my head in distaste as one of them hands a gun to that escaped convict. They are fools to trust him. Surely he would not betray them, for he would never think to take the side of the law, my side, over theirs. But they are fools nonetheless- who's to say what he will do, or what he's using them for? Once a thief, always a thief. No doubt he has come here for his own gain.

I could almost laugh at the students' cries of victory. Fools indeed. They will all be slaughtered by morning. Something inside me twinges at the truth of the thought, but I push it away. If they are so keen to fight authority, than it serves them right. If I have learned anything it is that the price of rebellion is steep- as is the price of crime. Whoever dares to risk it deserves their sufferance; mistakes come at the price of all men, so why let the weak masses drag down the righteous?

Still, it strikes a chord in me to see the hopeful smiles of these young men. They've condemned themselves and yet they still have hope that they will win. It is their hope that I pity. Before these traitorous thoughts can take hold, I seek out the one man who I have sought for many a year. Valjean climbs down from the barricade, and I can see the lines of experience weathering his his face, and the slow movement to indicate his age. And here I thought this man would never forgo his flight... It seems he may no longer have a choice. If I make it out of this, he will be mine. He may have unusual strength, but he is decaying- as we all must.

I hear the leader of the students praise Valjean for his deed, and I sneer; I am hard pressed not to roll my eyes. How is it that such a man as this- a criminal- seems to succeed no matter what? I swear when I capture him he will learn afresh the misery that comes as a result of his actions.

I am jolted from my thoughts as I hear my name. That devil speaks it, and my eyes shoot up to meet his. He does not even look in my direction as he continues to ask of the man,

"Let me take care of him."

My disbelief quickly turns to anger and indignant protestation as I snarl,

"The law is inside out! The world is upside down!"

This cannot be happening. I watch helplessly as the rebels agree, and hand me over to this criminal. I am not afraid to die- I was sure I would be killed once my guise was uncovered. But I will not be murdered by _this_ man.

I glare as Valjean approaches me. I am tied and unable to stop what is about to happen. My heart pounds with every second, as if it, too, knows that it is about to be halted forever.

Jean Valjean pulls a knife from his belt. Suddenly, his eyes lock with mine, and I feel all weakness, and all protest disappear. I am going to die. And if I am going to die than I will not rage against a power I cannot stop. I will let him come. I will let him slit my throat.

No one may know, and no one may care that I die this day. But I will die as a martyr, and as a pillar of the law. Let him kill me. He will only prove that I was right. I steel myself for the moment. I refuse to take my eyes off of his. His gaze holds no gloating or triumph, instead it is empty as he says,

"We meet again."


	3. Valjean 2

"You've hungered for this all your life." Javert spits the words at me, bearing no cowardice in his voice- only loathing. "Take your revenge."

He eyes the knife in my hand and nods to it. Sneering, he says,

"How right you should kill with a knife."

I shake my head. Will he never understand? Will he never realize that I am not trying to destroy him, as he constantly tries to destroy me?

"You talk too much. Your life is safe in my hands."

I lean over to slice his bonds with my knife. As I touch him he pulls back for a moment, and I can tell he's convinced I will actually kill him- he's convinced I will murder him in cold blood. But as the rope falls away, he looks from his hands and to my face with surprise.

"I don't understand."

"Get out here." I bark. Why must he make this so difficult? I have long hated him, true, but that was for offenses long past. I'm a different man now. Bitterness and vengeance no longer consume me as they once did, I have more important things to worry about.

"Valjean take care, I'm warning you..."

I fight the urge to roll my eyes- his life is in my hands, and yet he threatens me. He is more frustrating as my prisoner than he ever was as a captor. I repeat my message.

"Clear out of here."

Somehow, the man before me still fails to grasp my sincerity. He assumes this must be a trick or a foul trade, as he accuses me. His freedom for my freedom.

"Yes, Valjean, you want a deal." He exclaims. I breathe in exasperation and he adds, "Shoot me now for all I care!"

I glare. Only he could be so misguided, so stubborn. I offer him his life and he throws it back in my face with accusations of my criminal nature. He knows nothing. How can he be so blind?

I feel anger course through me, and I reply heatedly.

"You are wrong, and always have been wrong. I'm a man, no worse than any man!"

I gesture to the empty streets as I tell him,

"You are free, and there are no conditions!" I try to make him understand as though nothing were ever so important as to get the idea into his head- to get the truth past his prejudice. Emotion makes me careless to what I am saying, and I add without thinking, "There is nothing I blame you for,"

As the words leave my mouth, I suddenly realize the truth of what I have said. I do not blame Javert. Not really. Nor can I truly hate him.

I cannot take the words back, for I see the confusion lining in Javert's face. It's all I can do to try and explain.

"You've done your duty. Nothing more."

In an instant I feel remorse- all the time I've wasted running from this man, this man who does not even understand why he hates me. I am not a criminal. I am a man of God. And if he can't see that, then why waste another moment hating him? I almost feel sorry for him. Javert, too, has wasted so much time hunting me. Somehow, I know that it is up to me to end the chase, once in for all. If mercy will not stop him, than perhaps surrender will. It is as the bishop modeled: give everything you have- and then, even in the face of being wronged, give something more. If the gift of his life is not enough to end this...maybe the gift of my life, too, will suffice.

"If I come out of this alive- You'll find me at number 55 Rue Plumet."

He face contorts with disbelief. _Yes, Javert_, I think, _I _am_ turning myself in. _

"No doubt our paths will cross again."

He stares, and I can almost see the torrent of thoughts playing in his head. He shakes his head, as if unable to process what I have said. He looks pitiable- more lost than I have ever seen him.

Then I understand: he is in denial. It seems, for once, his confidence has faltered. He staggers back, turning and disappearing into the darkness. I lift the gun into the air and fire a clean shot, so the others will think the spy dead. I feel in my very bones the importance of what has just passed. But for now I must put it aside. Besides, I trust in my own words: we will surely meet again.


End file.
